


reassembled to construct the sun

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: There’s something under Tito’s skin, an old energy that’s threatening to come to the surface.He tries to scrub it off in the shower, settle it with food, sweat it out at practice, but it persists, stubborn and terrifying, and Tito’s on the brink of something he only barely understands.





	reassembled to construct the sun

**Author's Note:**

> god if you know anyone mentioned in the tags of this story, please, click away, please. like, please. seriously. 
> 
> also, if you see anything you're triggered or potentially triggered by, proceed with caution. please. detailed trigger warnings are in the endnotes, i'd recommend checking them out. i know it's sometimes cathartic to read (or write) stories about characters doing upsetting/triggering things, but it's also sometimes not. please stay safe. 
> 
> previous paragraph said it, but it bears repeating: detailed/spoilery trigger warnings in the endnotes. 
> 
> unbeta'd

Tito’s waiting for Mat to come back, and he feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. 

It’s probably bad that he’s conditioned himself to stay up waiting for Mat while lying in bed in the dark. That can’t be good for, like, his sleep cycles, or whatever, but it’s not like he has any other choice, because the darkness is their signal. When Mat comes back late and the lights are off, he’ll start telling Tito about the girl he’d met that night, where she’d taken him, and what she’d done, in clear, precise detail, and Tito— 

Well. What Tito does with that information is hidden in the dark and under hotel bed sheets, swallowed in bitten-back whines that Tito can only hope Mat doesn’t hear. 

It’s maybe fucked up—okay, no, it’s definitely fucked up—but Tito’s pretty sure Mat knows what’s going on. Like, at first, he’d thought Tito was asleep, but one whimper too many had slipped out, and Mat had stopped rambling about whatever sex he’d just had and started telling stories. It’s kind of like, personal porn, tailored exactly to Tito’s liking, and not that his perfect porn necessarily involves Mat Barzal, but lately, the normal video porn—busty blonde girls with perfect fake tans and fake moans being fucked mechanically by a bored-looking guy—hasn’t been cutting it for Tito. 

He figures that it’s the words. He can imagine his ideal girl doing the things Mat describes, and Mat describes them so well, well enough that Tito can tune out the weirdness of it being Mat. There’s probably a fantasy element to it, kind of like romance novels, and maybe forming fantasies based on your friend’s very real sexual encounters is strange, but—like, for all Tito knows, Mat could totally be making this up for Tito’s benefit. 

Not that Tito would mind that, either. He’d be confused, but, like, that’s a nice thing to do, probably. 

It feels like it’s been hours by the time the door opens, and there’s the same rush of worry that there always is— _ what if this time it’s different, what if this time it’s weird, what if this time he catches you— _ but Mat just sits on his bed, takes off his shoes, and says, casual as anything, “I got eaten out tonight.” 

Tito almost chokes as he attempts to hold back a whimper, and he’d already been kind of hard, keyed-up from the anticipation, and he must be more horny than he’d realized, because he’s already leaking pre-come. 

Mat’s talked about stuff like that—like, butt stuff—before. The first time, Tito had had to look it up, because he hadn’t known that was a thing you could do—or, have done to you—without a pussy, but apparently, it very much is. Tito’s never tried it, but Mat’s apparently really into that stuff. Being touched like that—back there—in particular, but he also sometimes does the touching, just doesn’t seem to think it’s somehow more taboo to have someone else’s tongue or fingers pressed between his cheeks. 

Which, logically, Tito knows liking certain sensations doesn’t say anything about a person’s sexuality, but still. 

“I barely even needed to touch my cock,” Mat says. “God, it was—it went for a long time, but it was purposeful, y’know? Like teasing—” 

Tito tries to imagine it, being kept on edge like that, except his mind unhelpfully shows him Mat’s face instead. It’s because he can’t picture the sensation exactly, he reasons. He’d tried a few times in the shower, out of sheer curiosity, and it was—like, it was good, but weird, and he’d gotten freaked out, so he’d figured it wasn’t his thing and stopped trying. 

It’s definitely Mat’s thing, though. 

Maybe Tito just likes hearing about it, as, like, a taboo, or whatever. There are plenty of things he likes hearing about that he doesn’t think he’d actually enjoy doing himself, like threesomes, or handjobs. or sex with Mat. It’s normal, to have things like that.

“I was so close,” Mat says. “And I didn’t want to touch myself, but it was pretty obvious that I was on edge, so when I sort of started bucking my hips, h—” he gulps, cuts himself off. 

Tito knows that Mat hadn’t started to say “he,” because that would mean Mat was hooking up with a guy, but his mind latches onto that anyway, totally without Tito’s permission. All he can do is hope that Mat says “she” or “her” or “girl” in the next sentence to erase any image of some dude on his knees behind Mat, because Tito doesn’t want to picture— 

He’s not— 

Whatever.   

“I guess they decided it was time for me to come,” Mat finishes, and it doesn’t put a girl in Tito’s head where there wasn’t before, but it does make him forget all about the other person in favor of thinking about Mat, waiting to be touched, probably whining, maybe begging, knowing that someone else has full control over his orgasm,  _ giving  _ them that control, like he gets off better when it’s at someone else’s pace. 

Tito comes all over the inside of his sweats, and Mat can probably hear the way his breath hitches, because he lies down in his bed, his hands behind his head. 

“It was good,” Mat says quietly, as Tito’s coming down. 

He says it like they’re having a conversation, leaves space after for Tito to say something, but Tito’s not sure if he’s actually allowed to speak, or what he would say if he was, so he just lets the silence sink in as come cools on his hand. 

After a beat, Mat says, “Good night, Tito.” 

He always says it, after they do this. 

Tito always feels bad about not saying it back.

 

Tito’s not, like, a homophobe. 

Which isn’t a great thing to say if you’re trying to convince people you’re not a homophobe, but the thing is, Tito’s seriously not. He’s been to gay weddings before, has a handful of gay friends—which is another thing he’s not supposed to say, but it’s true—and he’s not a very political guy, but he’s always been in favor of, like, gay rights and shit. He bought from every GSA bake sale he could back in high school. When he sees gay couples on the street, it makes him happy—like, good for them, they’re in love and it’s awesome. 

When they have the Pride Tape stuff, and the Hockey Is For Everyone nights, he participates. Of course he does. It’s his job to do shit like that, and it’s not like it’s any extra effort for him, and he’s not, like, a dickbag. It’s a good cause, he figures, and it’s pretty harmless. Small gestures add up, and maybe seeing rainbows on hockey sticks will make a confused kid feel a little less scared about playing the sport he loves. Maybe it’ll help gay guys already in the league. Maybe it’ll make no difference to anyone, but at the very least, Tito’s not hurting anyone by it. 

When he looks through the Instagram comments on the Pride Tape pictures, he sees more hate than he expected, and his chest is tight, and he feels kind of like he’s gonna be sick. 

It’s the principle of the thing, he figures; it’s garbage, because gay people are real fucking people, and it’s insane and horrible that there are  _ still  _ people who hate them that much. It’s gross and terrifying, and a part of him wants to say something, fight back, but that’s the farthest thing from his place. 

It probably wouldn’t mean much coming from a straight guy, anyway. 

It probably won’t really change until an NHL player actually comes out, and even then, things will still be shitty. There are probably fans out there who hate gay people more than they love hockey. 

Tito kind of wishes he knew gay people in the hockey world. It’s none of his business, but just—he knows these guys are out there, and he wants to reach out, let them know they have someone on their side, someone who thinks he kind of gets it, who can be a friend. 

So. Tito’s not perfect, and he still can’t bring himself to speak up when he hears guys make those small, annoying jokes, just shitty enough that they make Tito’s heart sink, but he’s not a homophobe, that’s for sure. 

 

(Also, he watches gay porn, sometimes. 

Not too often—he’s not, like, actually gay, and he feels weird, like he’s watching something that’s not meant for him—but he’s tired of the girls in straight porn, and even the cheesiest gay porn feels more… authentic, somehow. Intimate. 

He feels bad about it, and then he feels bad for feeling bad about it, and then his thoughts get all twisted up and at that point, he doesn’t even want to jack off anymore. 

He’d much rather wait until they have a roadie and listen to Mat talk about his night. If it didn’t feel like he was crossing a boundary, he’d consider recording it.) 

 

During a game of Truth or Dare, Mat admits to having a threesome, and he doesn’t really give many more details during the game, but it’s all Tito can think about as they make their way back to the room, so as Mat’s about to turn the TV on, Tito blurts out, “When did you have a threesome?” 

Mat turns to him, blinks, and sets the remote down. “Like, over the summer.” 

“Oh,” Tito says. “Was it, uh, with friends?” 

“Yeah,” Mat says, cautious, but not hesitant. “A couple.” 

“So it was—like, a girl and a guy?” Tito hates that his brain is zooming in on the “and a guy” part, but for some reason it is, even though the image of Mat and a guy is so, so off limits. 

“Yeah,” Mat says, and Tito’s got to be imagining the way it’s kind of breathless.  

“How’d that… work?” Tito asks. 

“I—” Mat starts, and then he pauses. “I mean, it was a lot of, uh, taking turns, I guess.” 

Tito wants more description than that, knows he won’t get it. He suddenly wants to turn the lights off. 

“Guess you all had to be patient, then,” Tito says, and he could probably die of humiliation right now. His palms are sweating and he feels the opposite of casual, and Mat has to know how weird he’s being, but for some reason, he doesn’t put Tito out of his misery, just keeps going, which is the worst possible outcome, and also maybe the best. Things are very confusing, all of a sudden. 

“Yeah,” Mat says, laughing in a way that sounds kind of like he’s in pain, and Tito gets the sense that he’s in the same place he is—wanting to have this conversation, with no idea how, terrified and excited and facing something that feels forbidden. “But there was one moment where—like, the two of them were making out, and he was, uh, touching her, and I was on my knees—and I was—with my mouth—” 

Tito squeaks. 

Like, straight-up squeaks, lets out the most humiliating noise known to man, and suddenly, he’s way too turned on to be in a hotel room with Mat, and needs to get out of there, fast. 

He stands up, turning his back to Mat. “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

“You’re—oh,” Mat says, and Tito can hear the guilt in his voice, and he wants to say that it’s not like that, but he doesn’t really trust himself to form words, exactly. 

So, he bolts out of the room, jerks off in the shower twice, and he doesn’t think about what he’s thinking about, just focuses on feelings and sensations and blurs out the faces, because getting off to the idea of your teammate sucking another guy’s dick is off-limits, even if the image is playing on a loop in Tito’s mind. 

By the time he comes back to the room, his skin is starting to prune, and Mat’s watching a basketball game, half asleep like he usually is, and neither of them says anything for the rest of the evening. 

Whatever Tito dreams that night, he pretends to have forgotten by the morning.  

 

“Are you asleep?” Mat asks, settling into his bed, and Tito most certainly is not, but it’s been three days of awkward, stilted conversations, and he had been hoping that this would be the day Mat finally cracked and let them settle into their old routine. 

Small blessings, apparently. 

“I really hope you’re asleep,” Mat says, and as he sighs, Tito feels incredibly, unbelievably guilty, but he doesn’t really know what else to do, so he remains still. 

“You have to know I hook up with guys sometimes, right?” Mat says, and Tito—he had and hadn’t known that, and he’s not sure how to feel now that it’s confirmed, but it’s not bad, for sure. It’s an image that’s been weaseling its way into Tito’s brain for weeks, and it’s confusing as fuck, but Tito can tell that when he peels back the layers of guilt, underneath is just—want. 

Not like that, just—wanting to hear about it. Another one of those things. 

“I sucked dick tonight,” Mat says, and Tito puts his hand on his cock, letting out a whimper. 

He hopes Mat notices. 

“The guy put his hands in my hair,” Mat says. “Sometimes I like bossy guys, but—I was in the mood to be in control, y’know?” 

Tito gasps a little bit, less of a conscious signal, this time, but still, he can’t quite bring himself to regret letting the noise escape his lips when Mat says, “Yeah,” all low, which means he knows Tito’s awake, and knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I pushed his hips down,” Mat says. “Told him not to move—he was into that.” 

Tito’s not really bothering to hold back his noises anymore, and he’s stroking himself fast, kind of desperate to just fucking— 

“He came in my mouth,” Mat says. “I pulled off for a sec, told him to come, and then he did.” 

It sends Tito over the edge pretty much immediately. 

He lets out a groan, one he couldn’t hold back even if he was trying, because this might be the hardest he’s ever come in his life. His world is zeroed in on his hand and Mat’s voice, and he thinks, for the first time since this whatever started, about the fact that Mat is watching him. 

Mat gives Tito more time than usual to come down before he says, “Good night, Tito.” 

The response is on the tip of Tito’s tongue, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, so he just shifts in his bed and hopes Mat gets the message. 

 

The next morning, there’s something under Tito’s skin, an old energy that’s threatening to come to the surface. 

He tries to scrub it off in the shower, settle it with food, sweat it out at practice, but it persists, stubborn and terrifying, and Tito’s on the brink of something he only barely understands. 

He wants to claw himself out of his skin, and he wants to hide in a pile of blankets and feel safe, and he wants everyone and no one to notice, and he’s a jumbled mess of contradictions, like he always is, except it’s a thousand times worse right now— 

Mat makes it settle, a little, but then Tito will remember last night, and his breath will start to get short.

 

Tito doesn’t really know any other way to say  _ hey, what do I do if I’ve been jerking off to my teammate for months  _ in either English or French, so he goes with that, word for word, when he goes to Ledds for advice.

Ledds just blinks back at him. “What.” 

It’s probably a fair response.

“I think I’m gay,” Tito says, rushed. 

“What.” 

“I… don’t know what else there is to it,” Tito says. “I think I’m gay.” 

Truthfully, he hadn’t thought about it in that many words, but it’s sort of like when you flip a coin and realize what you want while it’s up in the air—when push comes to shove, that’s sort of what’s going on here. 

He might be gay. 

Or, he’s probably gay. 

“Oh,” Ledds says. “I don’t know—uh, congrats?” 

“Thanks,” Tito says, his world tilting on its axis. 

He’s right—he knows he’s right—except this feels wrong, not as wrong as  _ not  _ being gay had felt, but still, it doesn’t feel the way he’d thought this epiphany would feel. 

Acceptance like this is supposed to feel like coming home, like opening your eyes, like closing your eyes and skating on a frozen lake, zamboni-smooth and windless, but this feels more like bumpy ice and dangerous thin patches. 

It feels like completing remedial math homework that’s already three weeks overdue; Tito feels worn-down, and the emotional weight off his shoulders doesn’t make him feel lighter, just relieved. He feels like he needs to take a nap. 

Ledds asks, “Are you sure?” 

_ Yes.  _ “No.”

“Well,” Ledds says, patting Tito’s back awkwardly, “You’ve got my support. Whatever you need, okay?” 

It sounds a little forced, but like it’s trying not to be, so Tito gives him a weak smile. “Thanks,” he says. “It means a lot.” 

And it does, and it doesn’t. 

 

Tito had a girlfriend, once. 

Long distance. Barely had to touch her. 

He’s had sex with girls, liked it fine enough, and he’s had some sex he’s liked less than he cares to admit. 

He’d always convinced himself he’d grow to like it eventually, that it wasn’t something you really ever loved, that it’s enjoyable in the moment and he just doesn’t remember— 

 

So he has sex with a girl one last time, after he talks to Ledds. 

The thing about girls: Tito knows where to put his hands. He knows how they’re supposed to fit together, how to make sure she’s wet enough before he enters, how long it’s supposed to last and how to make sure he gets her off—that’s the trick, he’d been told, once you make a girl come, you’re a stallion—and it feels fine. It feels good, arguably more than good, because he’d even gone for the prettiest girl in the bar, in his opinion, who looks like the exact opposite of the wives and girlfriends of his teammates, but acceptability be damned, he thinks she’s cute, with short curly hair and a smile that looks impossibly bright against her dark skin. 

Her name is Amanda, and she’s taller than him, which is something Tito’s probably not supposed to be into, but he definitely is—or at least, he’s kind of into a lot of things about her, so the fact that she’s bigger than he is doesn’t really make a difference one way or another. 

He’s probably a step down for her, considering she’s studying something in college that Tito can’t even understand, and it’s pretty obvious that she thinks he’s dumb—not just school-dumb, but life-dumb—even though she’s polite enough not to say it. 

Honestly, Tito can’t disagree. He doesn’t know much about the world, apparently. 

So, he eats her out, she gets off, they even switch positions a few times—Tito’s told that makes things exciting—but then, as she’s riding him, she pauses and says, “Alright, sorry, I can’t do this anymore.” 

Tito blinks. “What?” 

“I’m just, like, bored,” she says, and then she shrugs. “Sorry.” 

“Oh,” Tito says. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” she says, skeptical. 

“I mean, if you want to stop, let’s stop,” he says. 

For some reason, she starts laughing at that, and then, after a second, dismounts. “Sorry, I just—I expected you to be offended.” 

“No offense taken.” he says. 

“I mean, you’re shitty in bed,” she says, casual, like it’s not an insult, but it works, because Tito’s not really insulted. “Most guys just don’t want to hear it.” 

“Casual sex isn’t really my thing,” Tito says, by way of explanation. 

Her eyebrows raise, surprised, and Tito really wishes he were smart enough to keep up with her train of thought. They come from two very different worlds, probably. “You’re smarter than I thought.” 

“Because I don’t hook up much?”

“No, because you’re—self-aware, I guess. More than I thought.” 

“I’m really not,” Tito says, shrugging. “But, uh, thanks? Maybe?” 

She laughs again. Tito really likes her laugh, and he’d probably really like her, if he could. 

“You see, now I wish I could give you my number,” she says. 

“You still can,” Tito says. “I’m probably not gonna sleep with you again, though.” 

“Good, because I’ll only give you my number if you promise not to try to sleep with me again,” she says. 

“Match made in heaven,” Tito says cheerfully, and then he gets out of the bed and begins to get dressed. 

 

Tito gets back to the hotel room late, but Mat is still out, and Tito has no idea what he’s gonna do if Mat comes back and tries to do their usual thing—maybe commit to fake sleep and, like, not touch his dick at all—but Mat walks in fast, slams the door and practically chucks his shoes against the wall, not loud enough that it sounds like he’s intentionally trying to wake Tito up, but loud enough that it probably would. Tito goes silent on instinct. 

“He fucked me once,” Mat says, kind of frantic. “There’s no way he—like, he can’t judge me if he fucked me once, right?” 

Tito has no idea what Mat’s talking about, but he can kind of relate, if the pit in his stomach is any indication. 

“I don’t know who knows what, anymore,” Mat says. “I don’t even know what people think, and now I don’t know what he does, and—fuck, where were you tonight, anyway?” 

_ Having sex with a girl, and it wasn't the worst thing, and I’m never doing it again,  _ Tito thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

“Right,” Mat says. “Fuck, I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” 

_ You’re trying your best.  _

“I begged him to fuck me again,” Mat says. “I literally begged, and, like, I was drunk, but I was—he said  _ no.  _ What if he’s not like that? What if he was only okay once, and now he thinks I’m a freak?” 

_ Maybe he thought you were just scared,  _ Tito thinks.  _ I hope he thought you were just scared.  _

“God, fuck, he probably thinks I’m—I don’t even know. Fuck,” he says. “He’s our fucking teammate, dude.”  

_ He cares about you. We all care about you. _

“It’s so fucked up that everyone knows, but no one knows, and it’s, like, a secret, but it’s also not, and I just—fuck,” he says, kind of shouting the last word, and he punctuates the whole thing with a punch to a pillow. 

Tito can practically feel it, the frustration and fear, the loneliness that sometimes feels like a slow, grating ache and sometimes feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him, sharp and sudden. 

It’s the worst feeling in the world, and Tito can put up with it, but the idea of anyone else feeling that bad isn’t something he can live with, especially if that someone is Mat. 

They’re both lonely, and they’re both fucking exhausted, and Tito has, honestly and truly, had enough. 

“Barzy,” Tito says, and Mat freezes. 

“Fuck,” he says, almost a whisper. “Fuck, I didn’t—I just—” 

“Come here,” Tito says. 

Mat doesn’t move, so Tito turns over. 

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice gentle. 

“Hi,” Mat says, kind of dazed, and Tito can see that his face is blank with shock. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t,” Tito says softly. “Just—come here, okay?” 

“Why?” Mat asks, still frozen in place. 

“Just—I don’t know, comfort,” Tito says. 

“What, you’re offering to cuddle me?” Mat says, sarcastic. 

“Yes.” 

“I can’t—what’s going on?” 

“You’re my friend,” Tito says. “You’re my  _ best  _ friend, and you’re freaking out. Let me help you.” 

“Promise you’re not fucking with me?” Mat asks. 

Tito would be offended that Mat thinks he's that shitty a person, if he didn’t understand where it was coming from. “I promise.” 

Slowly, Mat gets into Tito’s bed. 

It’s probably gonna be too hot under the covers, Tito thinks, but he doesn’t really care, because he can feel the warmth of Mat’s body against his chest. Neither of them is wearing a shirt, so there’s a lot of skin, and it’s not, like, erotic, because the moment is too fragile to be about sex, but it’s also—it’s close. Intimate, in a way that’s not sexual, really, but still feels kind of like what sex could be. 

This is the kind of connection Tito’s been craving for a while, and while he’s not really thinking about sex—more about how good it feels that Mat’s finally relaxing, and it’s in his arms—he’s also thinking that there are parts of this he wants more of. It would make him happy to feel tethered like this more often, he thinks. 

He’s taken a lot of steps towards falling in love lately, he realizes. There’s a promise in that. 

“Sorry I wasn’t as much fun to listen to tonight,” Mat says, half genuine, half bitter. 

“I’m sorry,” Tito says. “You don’t have to be.” They can’t have a full conversation about this right now—Tito’s pretty much at capacity for emotional realizations for tonight—but he wants Mat to have some reassuring truths to take with him to bed. 

“I don’t?” Mat says, tensing up, and Tito moves a hand up to Mat’s hair and starts to run his fingers through it. 

“No, you don’t,” Tito says. “It’s not about that, it’s just about you, okay?” 

Mat takes a shaky breath. “This isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You,” Mat says. “Doing this, and saying stuff like  _ that— _ it’s not fair, Tito.” 

“Do you not want to?” 

“No, it’s just—c’mon, dude,” Mat says. 

“I just want to help,” Tito says. 

“Exactly,” Mat says. “You  _ just  _ want to help, you don’t want—” he cuts himself off. 

After a beat, Tito says, “Mat?” 

“Sorry,” Mat says. “I’m just being an asshole. Thank you, it’s—thanks for being here.” 

“I care about you a lot,” Tito says.

Mat sighs, resigned. “I know.” 

“No, like—” Tito starts, but he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, or even what he wants to say in the first place, and then Mat turns over and looks him straight in the eye, and all words leave Tito’s brain. 

“You really should be more careful,” Mat says.

“Probably,” Tito says. 

“I usually am,” Mat says. “It’s harder, when you’re around.” 

Tito’s heart is speeding up, but it doesn’t feel bad, for once. “I think you’re the perfect amount of careful.” He gulps. “I’ve been thinking about some stuff, lately.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What kind of stuff?” Mat asks. 

And the answer is complicated, because it’s been about Tito, and also about the rest of the world, and also hockey, and Mat’s only a small sliver of it, but he’s also kind of the whole thing—the catalyst, the purpose, the reason Tito wants to gather himself, the person he wants to reach out and touch—and really, there’s no good way to say it, so Tito doesn’t. 

He just leans in. 

It’s a short kiss; soft, chaste, terrifying, and thrilling. Tito’s kissed plenty of people, but this feels like something new. It’s the first time he’s kissed someone because he wanted to, and because he couldn’t imagine not kissing them; he doesn’t know how he’s gonna go back to a world where he’s not kissing Mat after this, because kissing him feels so, so nice, like a confession, like telling the truth. Maybe soulmates are real, he thinks, or maybe Mat’s just programmed into his DNA, because something—science or magic or whatever—has to be making this better than just a normal kiss. 

There is no way this can be this good just because of them. 

Or, maybe it is. 

Maybe this is what people want, what Tito never really got before, when he thought about sex with girls and committed himself to getting really good at going through the motions. Maybe a good kiss is just about the people kissing, even if someone’s lips are chapped or someone’s arm is falling asleep or whatever—maybe there’s a world of connections like this that Tito’s missed out on, where kisses aren’t rated by some objective scale, and he gets to decide exactly what he wants just based on what he likes.  

Maybe this is just what kissing boys is like, and maybe this is just what it feels like to finally live honestly, and maybe he just needs this one kiss, maybe he needs a lifetime of Mat Barzal kisses, or maybe it’s something in between. 

Tito’s not really sure. 

Either way, a thousand love songs finally make sense to him, and as he pulls back, he can feel something align, center itself, slot together in a new kind of way. 

He feels reborn. 

“Since when?” Mat says, when Tito pulls back. 

Tito shrugs, doesn’t take his fingers off of Mat’s cheek. His lips are still kind of buzzing. “It’s a new development, but also—you know.” 

“It’s confusing,” Mat says. 

“For sure,” Tito says, and then he tilts his head. “I think you make sense, though.” 

“Yeah?” Mat says, a playful smile on his lips. 

“Yeah,” Tito says. “We can talk about it in the morning.” 

“Good call,” Mat says, and then he turns over, lets Tito wrap his arms around him as he settles into his chest. 

It’s definitely gonna be too hot under the covers, honestly, but Tito doesn’t really care, because Mat’s hair is very soft, and Tito likes the way it tickles the skin of his face. 

“You feel nice,” Tito murmurs into Mat’s hair. 

He doesn’t need to see Mat’s face to know that he’s smiling. “Good night, Tito,” he says. 

“Night, Mat,” Tito says, and then he presses a kiss to the back of Mat’s neck for good measure. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there’s a storm of regret and shame brewing, and he’s probably gonna have to confront that, but for now, he falls asleep trusting that he’ll be able to. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a switch is flipped to ‘off’, and he feels a new kind of relaxation take over his whole body.

**Author's Note:**

> -a character recounts sexual encounters to his roommate, who pretends to be asleep, and no explicit verbal consent is given.  
> -said roommate jerks off to the descriptions of sexual encounters, while they are being described to him, and no explicit verbal consent is given.  
> -a gay character has sex with a girl. it's not described in explicit detail, and that sexual encounter, in the story, is not upsetting/traumatic.  
> -a gay character alludes to past sex with girls that may read as having been traumatic. these encounters are not detailed in any way.  
> -internalized homophobia in the form of describing certain attractions as forbidden/off-limits.  
> -descriptions of homophobic internet comments.  
> -descriptions of fears and anxieties re: coming out  
> lmk if i missed any
> 
> actual endnote: this is a story about coming out and self-acceptance as two intertwined concepts and two long processes, and also a story about paradoxes and the way we see ourselves in the world.


End file.
